


Crossed Lines I Shouldn't Have Crossed

by oneforeveryday



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, but I still love him, gay Zuko, jet is an ass in this, sexually ambiguous sokka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26233999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforeveryday/pseuds/oneforeveryday
Summary: Zuko loves Sokka in all the ways he shouldn’taka Zuko repressing his sexuality and being in love with his ‘straight’ best friend
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 402





	Crossed Lines I Shouldn't Have Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Coldplay song In My Place
> 
> EDIT: I changed this to a highschool setting and added in about 2,000 words oopsies
> 
> TW for internalized homophobia and one instance of Zuko being outwardly homophobic to another minor character. it’s very minor and only one phrase and only happens in a certain section that you can read the fic without. 
> 
> If you want to skip it, stop reading at ‘The music in this place is too loud and the lights are too low...’ and pick up again at ‘Sokka has been crying; Zuko can tell from the dried tear tracks striking his cheeks...’

Once he finds out, Zuko tries to rationalise it. He tells himself that it’s all down to the fact that they’ve been hanging out together too long. His head is just getting confused. He probably should get a girlfriend and then it will all stop.

The fact that he hasn’t ever looked at a girl since Sokka and thought he would definitely want to date her isn’t lost on him. He shoves the thought down, along with all the others he can’t bear to face right now.

\---

The thing is, Sokka is always around: in his plans, in his room, and in his thoughts. He leaves bits and pieces of himself everywhere, like so many visible markers of his presence in Zuko’s life.

There's a dark blue hoodie that belongs to him hanging on the coat rack of Zuko’s dresser, and a few forgotten snapbacks on his shelves. In the mornings after a particularly wild party he always drinks his coffee from the same cup, and Zuko puts it away at the back of the cupboard so no one else uses it. When he stays over Zuko lets him have the fluffy pillow, just because it's nicer that way.

They've become a pair of people, an item. Never one without the other, the old couple two apartments down used to say when they walked past them, and Zuko felt annoyed and proud all at once.

He can't remember how it started, he can't even remember the moment they first talked to each other. And lately, it feels a bit strange to think about it: to think of a time when he didn't know Sokka. He doesn't remember what he used to do after school. Where he hung out at before going home, or what kind of friends he had before Sokka came along.

If anything his feelings make even less sense, because Zuko already has him, in his everyday life and under his skin, constantly on the back of his mind.

It doesn't make any sense, when he thinks about it. Except sometimes, he knows it does.

\---

Zuko fucked up. He had been taking several different variables into account, carefully calculating all the ways Sokka could maybe, possibly, feel more than friendship for him. He had been so focused on the things he did know about Sokka, he hadn't paid attention to Suki until she came in like a whirlwind and annihilated all his plans.

Zuko thought Hell was having to listen to Sokka relate in enthusiastic details how hot some random chick looked after dancing with her at a club.

When Sokka drags him along to the park on Wednesday to meet her, he realises Hell is really having to watch Sokka and Suki kiss and cuddle and smile so warmly at each other he can't even feel anything other than despair.

Sokka left one girl to move on to another, one he loves, and he never once looked at Zuko.

Zuko feels sad, he feels despondent, but mostly he's angry. The 5 stages of grief, maybe, all out of order and all at once. They bring out the worst in him, eat at his heart and his mind until he just feels empty.

Just another cliché, that’s what he is. A case study of What you should absolutely not do when you happen to be in love with your very handsome, very straight best friend. 

He can’t ease the pain, so instead he numbs it. Throws himself into school and parties until his head is so full he can barely hear himself think.

\---

For a few nights that summer, they camp out by the lake near Sokka’s grandmother's house. The nights are bright here so far out from any city, and they naturally drift even closer, chasing each other through the cool water all day and making a small fire at night.

It takes them two hours just to get a proper flame started, and Zuko can't resist making fun of Sokka’s lack of survival skills.

“Fuck off, boy scout Zuko. Someone had to take charge after you spent 30 minutes messing around with wood sticks together for no result.”

Zuko takes on a scandalized look that he knows is completely ruined by the huge grin he can't hold back.

“At least I know how to make a fire without a match. You can't exactly compete here, bro.” he replies, raising his eyebrows at Sokka to punctuate his point.

“Yeah well, who cares about lighting fires when you've got a girlfriend as hot as mine.”

Sokka is smirking, proud of his lame pun, but Zuko freezes. Immediately his mood comes crashing down, and there's just no denying the feeling of broken glass inside of his chest upon hearing those words.

He knows he should say something, even just pretend to be annoyed by Sokka rubbing the fact that he has a girlfriend in his face, but his mouth simply won't work.

The smile on Sokka’s face is starting to fade and the panic kick starts Zuko’s brain again. There’s absolutely no way Sokka can know. And yet, Zuko can't think of a lie. 

“Sorry, Zuko, I… Fuck, I totally forgot,” Sokka says, suddenly, and he does sound apologetic but Zuko doesn't have the slightest clue what he's talking about right now. Something must show on his face because Sokka goes on, sounding increasingly flustered.

“I forgot… Mai,” Sokka says again, trailing off, and suddenly it clicks.

Mai, who asked him out right before summer break started. Mai, who he couldn't refuse, who he let take him on a mockery of a relationship that mostly consisted of sitting next to each other while she hung out with his sister.

Zuko wants to laugh because Sokka is so far off the mark it would hilarious if it wasn't this terrifying. Instead, he shrugs, squaring his shoulders. “Yeah, no… It's- it's fine. You know how it is.”

There's a prolonged silence, before Sokka stands up, shaking them both out of it.

“Enough moping, I brought something fun,” he says with a slight curve to his lips that Zuko finds himself mimicking immediately.

“Sokka, we've talked about your idea of fun…”

From where he's rummaging into his backpack, Sokka still manages to flip him off.

“Fuck off,” he says upon sitting back back down on the rotten log they've rolled into the clearing. “You'll be kissing my feet for a taste of this”

“You fucking wish” Zuko replies automatically but he still glances at the object Sokka is hiding on his side. It's too dark to tell what he's holding.

“Shut up and give me the knife.”

Zuko passes it, not quite understanding what Sokka is trying to do. His roasted marshmallows are more interesting at the moment.

There's a ‘plop’ sound and Sokka exclaims “Tada!” like the giant dork he is, and Zuko can't help laughing at his delighted face. Sokka pushes him playfully in retaliation, knocking their shoulders together a little harder than necessary.

“What did I tell you?” Sokka says before dropping a bottle of wine on Zuko’s lap.

Zuko throws him a disbelieving look, only to be met with the largest grin he's ever seen.

“What…? After you got grounded a whole month last time?”

Sokka leans in, smile huge and tone conspiratory. “So let's just not get caught this time.”

“You're ridiculous. He could have looked through your bags or something.” Sokka’s dad could be paranoid at times.

“Will you shut up and open the damn bottle already? I'm thirsty,” Sokka chides him. He's still leaning too close and Zuko’s heart is playing a toccata right now. He can feel heat flood his face and can only be thankful for the darkness.

Not trusting himself to speak, he takes a swig instead, before holding the bottle out toward Sokka. He can control himself well enough when he's drunk, and Sokka tends to become very uninhibited in the way he touches him.

It’s not something Zuko will readily admit to himself but he does appreciate it a little too much. It's all kinds of fucked up but right now, with Sokka baring his throat to take several large drinks from the bottle, Zuko couldn't care less.

-

Between the two of them, the bottle of wine didn't stand a chance. It quickly gets thrown to the side but Zuko already feels terribly dizzy. He can't see straight but apparently neither can Sokka, judging by the way he stumbles all around the clearing when he gets up for a wizz, which makes it a little more okay.

Everything takes on a new dimension, the flashlight they hung inside the tent making it glow like an alien dome. They’re sat far enough that the light barely reaches them, and Zuko can't see anything but pitch black darkness.

“You've never told me about what happened with Mai,” Sokka says when he sits back down, and Zuko can feel his heart stop.

Because there's nothing to tell, he wants to answer. But it’s not like he can tell Sokka that. And it's not like he can think of a lie either, right now with the strident panic piercing through the fog of his brain. There’s just no reason Sokka would want to talk about Mai again, none whatsoever.

Sokka hesitates before he goes on, and Zuko’s heart in his throat. “You dumped her pretty fast…”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Yeah, well, I just... wasn't feeling it, you know?” It’s a terrible excuse but Zuko desperately hopes Sokka won't question it.

For a moment, it seems to have worked. Sokka stays silent, nibbling on his lower lip thoughtfully, and Zuko relaxes somehow. That is, until Sokka decides to speak again.

“I know, but, Zuko… There were some rumors after you two broke up...”

Zuko glances at him but can't bring himself to linger. He's too afraid of what he might find in Sokka’s eyes. There's a question stuck between his teeth but he can't bring himself to voice it. Instead, he throws his hand up, trying to express an anger he doesn't feel.

“Do we have to talk about this right now? I'm drunk as fuck and so are you.”

Sokka, to his credit, looks contrite.

“Sorry, I just… It was a lot of dumb stuff, that's all.” He pauses for a few seconds. “I told those assholes to shut up anyway, you know I don't believe them.”

Zuko gives him a tiny smile despite the panic tightening his chest. He doesn't let himself wonder what these rumors possibly were because the thought alone makes him want to throw up.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Sokka is still looking at him like he wants to say something else and it's freaking Zuko out. “I don't care anyway,” Zuko adds, just so Sokka will drop it.

He does, but there’s this look on his face before he changes the subject.

-

As soon as they're back in the tent and snug into their sleeping bags, Sokka turns off the blaring light above their heads and plunges the tent into shadows again. This time however, it feels oppressive, the tiny space separating them full of things left unsaid.

The light from the moon is filtered by the dense fabric sheltering them from the outside world. It's too weak for Zuko to make out more than vague shapes but he stares up at Sokka anyway, watches him run his fingers through his hair pensively.

When their eyes meet, Zuko feels a slight jolt at the oddly intense look in Sokka's eyes, so strong it pierces the darkness.

Zuko stays awake long after Sokka has started snoring, staring at the curved walls of the tent like he’s trying to escape from his own head.

\---

It’s a bit too much. Zuko just can’t keep it bottled up anymore; his feelings are overflowing. And so it happens despite his best efforts, one rainy afternoon.

They’re just sitting on the bed, high out of their minds, and Sokka is ranting about something political that Zuko’s never heard of nor been interested in. He doesn't mind at all, though. He likes that Sokka cares about something that not a lot of people, and especially not Zuko, take time to consider.

Most of all, he likes how animated Sokka becomes as he recounts to Zuko vivid images from a documentary he just watched, the way he gestures and speaks emphatically. Zuko listens to him talk but he can't focus, he just can't. There's an odd feeling rising inside of him, and he feels something akin to fear when he realises the only clear thought in his head right now is that he desperately wants to kiss Sokka’s mouth.

It’s a sudden shift in reality, as if he had just put on glasses for the first time.

The world seems to be gradually getting brighter, like sunbeams piercing through the clouds, and he can feel it in his body; a feeling of blossoming warmth, a strange kind of heat unfurling through his chest and curling in his neck and then rising up and up, all the way to his head and his cheeks. It’s a wondrous kind of feeling, the kind that makes his blood run lighter in his veins and something bright burst in his lungs.

And that's how the realisation hits him, over the course what feels like a full minute of his entire body being transcended by overpowering understanding. A light-bulb-going-off kind of moment.

He stares down at the joint he's holding in his hands, trying to make sense of anything as the sensations wash over him. His mouth is gaping slightly, and he opens and closes it a few times but no sound comes out. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. It just feels too heavy for words.

He knows it’s not even fear, that's keeping his mouth shut: it's the absolute certainty that whatever he says, it’s absolutely fruitless.

In the end he says it anyway; it’s too big to keep a secret.

“I love you.” The words are quiet, spoken into the still air, and it takes exactly 1.5 seconds for Sokka to pull him into a tight hug.

“Hey,” he says in the soft hair right above Zuko's ear. His voice is warm and low. “Hey, Zuko. You know I love you too.”

And sure it's not the same, and sure the weed is loosening Sokka’s tongue, but Zuko will take it.

He shifts against Sokka’s body, turning into the hug so he can lay his head on his shoulder. He’s too much of a coward to correct Sokka, but it’s difficult to feel guilty when he can feel him smooth a hand over his back and pull him even closer.

\---

They don't talk about it, they never talk about any of it, but it's there. An undercurrent of mutual affection, a special care in Sokka’s every glance.

Sokka looks at him fondly, in a way that's not really love and certainly not pity, and Zuko falls deeper into the abyss. Because Sokka knows, about the train wreck that is Zuko’s family and he cares, of course he cares, but he doesn't let it influence the way he sees Zuko.

Their relationship has remained the same through the good shit and the bad. Even after the time he called Sokka to his house and asked him with a voice thick with unshed tears to take him away from there.

Sokka had looked a little too long at the remnants of broken glass over the carpet of the living room, something like sadness falling over his face, and Zuko had been so scared he’d look at him like that too.

But Sokka is nothing if not the greatest person Zuko has ever had the chance to know, and when he had turned to Zuko with a small smile and told him in that impossibly warm voice that his sister had made Agutuk, Zuko had found himself smiling right back.

\---

Ecstasy is the drug for him, he decides. His body feels light and strong, all the negativity usually clogging his thoughts swept away, and his only concern at the moment is to hear and see it all. To feel more of the sense of absolute peace loosening his limbs.

Even the shitty music blaring through the loudspeakers sounds heavenly tonight, all sultry bass and thumping chorus that has him yelling obscene lyrics at the top of his lungs. Sokka is right beside him, an arm slung around his shoulders as they sing in choir. He has a smile that makes all the bones in Zuko’s body melt faster than the drug ever could.

Zuko wants so badly tonight, and there’s a voice whispering in his mind that he should. Lean in, kiss the dryness of Sokka’s lips away, revel in this incredible exhilarating feeling together, but he knows better than to entertain it. So he just grins back, so wide it probably looks creepy, and stares too long after Sokka has turned his face away.

There’s just no helping the warmth and the bliss spreading through him, transporting him to an artificial Cloud nine. Tomorrow doesn’t exist between these walls, not when there’s Sokka’s hot skin against his and his fingers clinging tightly to the curve of his shoulder.

\---

Sokka is fucking with him; Zuko is sure of it.

He keeps leaning across him to press the switch of the automatic light that illuminates the stairs of the porch they’re sitting on. Every time he does, the skin of his forearm brushes against Zuko’s and it feels unnecessary. Too close, too long. Too much.

Any other time Zuko would hate it, the feeling of sticky skin against his; he'd lean back, as far as possible. That night however, Zuko stands straight and stiff as a post. Lets Sokka’s bare skin touch his and trigger all the nerve endings in his body, a sweet sort of warmth rising within him in response.

It doesn’t make sense, how the two of them shed their jackets despite the chill of the night. Zuko can see the goosebumps prickling Sokka’s brown skin; knows his own hair is standing on end. It feels like yet another silent secret, an acknowledgement of something deeper running between them.

It might be just wishful thinking on Zuko’s part but he has learned to live with it, gotten used to silencing his too-heavy, desperate feelings. The hyper awareness, the fast beating of his heart; it's all becoming second nature to him.

With a click, the light goes out again. Zuko isn’t sure what he likes best: the brief moments of quiet darkness, a strange contrast to the shimmering lights inside the house and behind his eyelids. Or the hitch in his breath every time Sokka leans into his face unexpectedly to turn the light back on.

It’s like a game he didn’t know they were playing. A test of resistance or maybe a game of dare, for which the reward remains unclear.

“I missed this,” Sokka says quietly, breaking all kinds of silences between them. The I feel like we're growing apart silence, the we don’t talk anymore silence. Sokka had always been the honest one between the two of them, always said what he felt in a way that left Zuko ill at ease and baffled, too aware of the twists to all his truths.

Sokka isn’t very eloquent tonight but Zuko hears it for what it is: an apology. A promise to make things right.

He raises his can of beer and takes a swig. “It’s been a while”, he replies with a genuine smile.

\---

Somewhere along the way, Zuko loses count. Stops agonizing over every single moment Sokka’s touch or Sokka’s words or Sokka’s looks could have meant more.

Zuko tries not to delve into those fantasies too much because he knows what they really represent. A universe where Sokka feels the same for him. A universe that doesn't exist.

On nights like these when he’s alone in sullen silence, crashing on his bed after coming home from a crappy party where he drank his anger away, Zuko would not feel ashamed if he rang Sokka’s phone. He would cling to the reassuring voice on the other side of the line telling him that he’d be right there. And when Sokka would show up to his apartment, Zuko would let him in without hesitation because nobody would be there to question his presence.

On nights like these, he wouldn’t want anything more than his best friend’s strong body against him, with his warm hands working to take the pain away. With someone like Sokka by his side, Zuko thinks he would be invincible.

\---

The weed is strong, or maybe Zuko is just tired. Sluggishness is spreading through his limbs faster than usual and he’s suddenly glad for the double bed in his room when the feeling of bonelessness intensifies. Because now that they’re lying down side by side, Zuko can nestle deeper under the large plaid and push his face closer to Sokka’s shoulder.

If he doesn’t speak nor move, he can hear Sokka’s breathing, made slightly heavier by the drugs. It’s the best kind of lullaby.

“Hey,” Sokka nudges his shoulder, craning his neck to peer at him. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

His hand is still holding Zuko’s shoulder, spanning the entire curve of it. It feels heavy and hot even through Zuko’s cotton shirt, and he finds himself thinking he wants more.

Pushing that particular train of thought away, Zuko yawns and stretches like a cat.“Not my fault the weed’s strong,” he replies, and it comes out sounding incredibly sleepy. Sokka laughs but doesn’t mock him, which is a relief.

Instead, his hand slides down to Zuko’s bicep smoothly, like he doesn’t want to pull away just yet, and the thought makes something bloom in Zuko’s mind. A daring longing to take what he wants, bolstered by the emptiness of his mind. 

His mouth makes the decision for him.

“I miss kissing,” he says, completely out of the blue and taking even him by surprise.

His gaze flits to Sokka’s face in panic, only to find him smiling lazily as he turns his head to look at Zuko again.

“Yeah? What about that girl from Saturday night?”

When Zuko scrunches up his nose, Sokka laughs out loud. The sound reverberates in every corner of Zuko’s body.

“Yeah, I feel you. That didn’t look nice at all.”

“It was not,” Zuko insists, sounding a bit whiny. She really was a terrible kisser.

Sokka is still smiling when he turns onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. “So who d’you wanna kiss then?”

Zuko stares up at him, a steady thrumming starting in his chest. This might just be the moment he finally says it.

“Hmm?” Sokka says again, when Zuko still doesn't answer.

Try as he might, Zuko can't do it; the words stay stuck in his throat. He burrows into the pillow instead, closing his eyes and sighing softly. “I don’t know, I just wanna.”

“So how about I kiss you?”

The shock of the question almost makes Zuko open his eyes but he resists the impulse. Sokka’s words hang in the air, like an opening for either of them to make a move.

The springs of the mattress dip when Sokka leans forward. Zuko can feel his warm breath tickling his cheek and then he feels a dry mouth press against the skin there. The lips linger, until Sokka pulls away with a little 'smooch' noise.

Finally, Zuko opens his eyes and frowns at him, the kiss having momentarily drawn him out of his drowsy state.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot,” he complains. The statement lacks conviction, but Zuko realises in a rush of panic that he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Now, Sokka will surely wonder why he's annoyed.

They stare at each other, the silence stretching on for what feels a little too long. Contrary to what Zuko thought, Sokka doesn’t seem surprised by his reaction.

There’s something in his expression however, like a question that Zuko can’t read, and the more he looks into Sokka’s eyes, the stronger it feels. It’s that same tension he thinks he been imagining this whole time, and just when he thinks it’s finally about to snap—

Sokka looks away.

“I know,” Sokka replies belatedly, his voice a little quiet.

\---

The music in this place is too loud and the lights are too low, but what really bothers Zuko is the sketchy thirty-something guy at the other end of the counter who keeps ordering drinks for him. Zuko had accepted the first three beers with growing unease when he found himself locking eyes with the man far too often for mere coincidence. At least no one has carded him.

There's a lot going on in his head, made worse by the alcohol. He can feel a number of eyes on him, appraising him in a way that makes his gut churn. He wasn't looking for this kind of attention, or any kind of attention really.

Most of all, it's terrifying how easily he has been spotted, despite the throng. Is it so easy to tell? He doesn't think he gives off gay vibes. Nobody else had ever been able to tell.

The panic is growing inside his chest so he swallows it down with a large swig of creepy-guy beer. Several feet away, the guy flashes him a thumbs-up sign Zuko replies to with what probably ends up looking like a grimace of disgust.

A few other patrons turn toward him, clearly interested now; Zuko feels on display, like a fucking fawn in the middle of a wolf pack. And a rapid glance at the barman confirms he will not be getting help from that side either.

To distract himself, he opens several apps on his phone in quick succession, trying to make himself look busy enough that none of the people around him will decide to chat him up. It’s when he finds himself scrolling down his Instagram feed that he realises his mistake.

Suki has posted another picture with Sokka, of her kissing his cheek. Any other time it’d annoy Zuko but he’d push the feeling down easily and barely even pause his scrolling, but tonight it bothers him enough that he stares at the picture for a moment.

It’s not so long ago that Sokka jokingly kissed his cheek, but the feeling remains, like a brand on his mind. Zuko knew it was completely insignificant, that Sokka probably didn’t even remember he did it or why he did it in the first place— But it still hurt. Seeing Suki kiss him so casually and broadcast it to the world, because she’s his girlfriend and because he loves her.

The alcohol in his system makes everything slow and blurry, diluting the sadness and longing Zuko is feeling at the moment.

The guy gets close enough for Zuko to smell the expensive cologne he’s wearing before he smoothly sets a heavy hand on Zuko’s shoulders, smile turning proprietary.

“Hey baby, going home already?”

The physical contact feels terribly wrong. When Sokka had set his broad, square hand on that same shoulder, Zuko had wanted it all over his body.

“Uh? What do you say?” The guy doesn't relent, oblivious to Zuko’s discomfort.

Zuko drags his gaze to his face, contempt and disgust probably written all over his face. He takes a deep breath before moving aside, shrugging the hand off his shoulder.

The words fall from his mouth, dripping with hatred.

“Get away from me, you fucking homo.”

He’s just so fucking drunk.

\---

Sokka has been crying; Zuko can tell from the dried tear tracks striking his cheeks. His eyes are red and puffy and Zuko’s heart clenches at the emptiness of his gaze. Sokka seems dazed. He hadn’t even seemed surprised to see Zuko at the door, just acknowledged him with a nod and a weak smile and turned to retreat to his room again.

Zuko feels awkward. It feels like a moment for Sokka alone, that Zuko had no business interrupting—although it’s a bit too late for regrets when he’s already sitting on Sokka’s large bed.

“She broke up with me,” Sokka says with a sad smile, fiddling with his jacket sleeves.

Zuko lets him speak, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. He hates himself for not being there properly for Sokka and instead getting selfishly sidetracked by how beautiful his best friend looks in this moment, and how much relief he feels with Sokka’s words.

He can’t stop staring, can't stop taking it all in greedily; there’s a certain kind of intimacy that comes with the sight. How the flecks of green in Sokka’s blue irises stand out against the red rim around his eyes. The way his voice sounds, shaky and higher than usual.

Zuko has to shake himself out of his trance.

“Did it end well?” He thinks Sokka would want to him to ask that.

Sokka shrugs, looking a little sadder in the downturn of his lips. Zuko mentally kicks himself for putting it there.

“It was getting more difficult lately… You know how it was,” and Zuko nods even though he has no idea. 

“I’m sorry,” Zuko offers lamely. The truth is that he has no idea how to handle a situation like this. How did Sokka help him when he was feeling shitty?

Right. By hugging him and being there to listen. And definitely not by fantasizing about his crying face. He really needs to get a grip.

He decides to be a good friend, and moves a little closer to where Sokka is sitting to awkwardly sling an arm over his shoulders. Sokka doesn’t really relax into it, which throws Zuko off guard and makes him start to regret every decision that led him to sit in this room.

He goes to withdraw his arm, feeling stupid, but Sokka catches the hand dangling over his shoulder in his, gripping it lightly.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs quietly, head downcast. 

Zuko smiles despite his discomfort, faking a chuckle. “As if you could keep me away.”

“No, I mean it,” Sokka insists, turning to him. His eyes are serious and Zuko gulps at the intensity of his gaze. Sokka looks beautiful and they’re sitting really close and this is a fucking recipe for disaster.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Sokka says again, grounding him in reality again.

The protest flies off Zuko’s tongue. “You know I don’t care about that stuff.” 

What kind of friendship would it be if they can’t be honest with each other? But he doesn’t know how to say that.

Instead, and after some wavering, he leans in, bringing his other arm up so he can give Sokka a heartfelt hug, pouring in the strength of it all the things he can’t say. He loves Sokka, inside and out, and no amount of internal fuck-up will change that.

Sokka hugs him back and they embrace for slightly longer than either of them is used to. When Sokka finally lets go and their eyes meet again, Zuko feels himself flush from embarrassment. They’ve always been close, but nothing like this.

“Okay?” he asks, just to break the heavy silence.

“Okay,” Sokka nods, smiling fondly at him, and Zuko feels a little rush of selfish pride at the thought that he can make Sokka smile through anything.

He’s so beautiful in this moment, and Zuko never had him so close before: it makes his brain go a little haywire. On a sudden impulse he leans in and kisses Sokka’s cheek sweetly, right under his right cheekbone where a faint tear track is still visible.

There’s no excuse for it this time, no weed or alcohol, just sadness. But Sokka is still smiling and Zuko thinks maybe this could be okay. 

\---

It becomes a thing, the touches. The hugging, but especially the kissing.

Most of the time it's done jokingly, when Zuko wants to thank Sokka for bringing him beer or weed all the way to his apartment. Sometimes Sokka does it too, when Zuko lets him crash at his place or picks him up drunk. Zuko definitely thinks he deserves a kiss for those times, because Sokka’s ass would be dead if it weren't for Zuko.

Other times, it's sloppy and a little disgusting, like when Sokka has been drinking or when he's just trying to gross Zuko out. Zuko panicked the first time Sokka had done it in public, but he soon realised that nobody seemed to think much of it. It helps him progressively relax, his eyes not darting around nearly as much when Sokka pulls away. It doesn't hold much meaning, even if Zuko always feels a thrill when Sokka starts leaning into his face to kiss it.

-

Jet is here tonight, the self-appointed weed man, and he sits right in front of Zuko with his arms spread out over the cushions like he owns the place. Zuko feels himself bristle just at the sight of him.

“Hey Zuko,” he says with a smug grin that makes Zuko wants to slap it off his face. “Whatcha guys up to? It’s been a while.”

Zuko bites back a retort about how being an ass isn’t the best way to get invited to people's parties.

“We’ve been busy,” he says instead, making his best to sound like he doesn’t care.

Jet throws an interested glance around the room, stopping on a point to Zuko’s left. “I can see that,” he says appreciatively.

Zuko follows his line of sight and feels himself deflate when he sees Sokka chatting with a girl in a corner. Their heads are bent close together and Sokka is grinning widely at something she’s saying.

When Zuko turns away, he finds Jet’ eyes on him, observing closely.

“He’s got some serious game,” Zuko says, just so Jet can’t make a shitty comment.

Thankfully he doesn’t, seemingly still distracted by whatever Sokka is doing. Zuko is sure as hell not taking another look at that; he doesn’t think he can handle the tightness in his chest.

There’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence, Zuko stubbornly staring down at the bottom of his glass, until Jet starts grilling him with questions about parties and stupid rumors Zuko doesn’t really give a shit about.

He gives short, noncommittal answers, and is so busy trying to find a way to get the hell out of here he’s caught a bit off guard when someone climbs over the backrest of the couch to plop down next to him.

“Hey,” Sokka says casually, waving at Jet with a smile a bit too wide to be completely sober. Jet leans forward to clasp his hand in a light shake.

“Sokka, my man. Where’s your cute friend?” he asks, nodding his chin in the direction of the spot Sokka was standing at moments before.

Sokka winks at him, relaxing into the couch and carelessly spreading his arms over the backrest in a perfect imitation of Jet’ earlier posture.

“Maybe later,” he replies smoothly in a confident drawl.

His right arm ends up slung over Zuko’s shoulders, but Zuko can’t afford to read too much into it with Jet right in front of him.

“Zuko, gimme some of your drink,” Sokka asks, right as he was about to get up when another chick catches his eye.

When Zuko holds the glass out to him, Sokka leans forward and kisses him on the cheek, just a quick peck, before taking a sip. Zuko stares resolutely at the floor, at his knees, anything other than Jet in front of him who’s probably gearing up for—

“Holy shit, dude,” Jet says, and Zuko tries not to sigh. He sees Sokka in his peripheral vision momentarily stop drinking.

Jet barely pauses before continuing. “That’s so gay.”

Sokka eyes him with a slow smirk.

“You jealous?” Sokka asks, making a kissy face at him.

“Dude.”

Jet looks seriously weirded out but ends up just going back to their conversation, and Zuko counts that as a win. Or at least, that's what he tries to tell himself.

His second reaction is that he's never, ever, letting Sokka kiss him like that again. He has no idea how to make it stop without explaining why he would want to, but he knows that it's necessary.

\---

"There's nothing wrong with it," Sokka says all of a sudden as they watch Jet leave.

Zuko turns toward him, brain slow to catch up. He almost asks what Sokka means before he makes the connection.

All he can say is a little "Oh". His thoughts are completely jumbled in his head, and there are a few things he wants to say but he doesn't know how.

Sokka throws him a look Zuko finds strange; dark and a little unsure. "It's okay, right?" he asks, his voice a little higher than normal.

There's something there, something that should be jumping out to Zuko, but his brain won't co-operate. The only thing he knows for certain is that Jet has forced out into the open something unspoken between them, that neither of them is ready to confront.

He searches for Sokka's gaze, and holds it with a confidence he doesn't really feel.

"I don't care about that guy," he says, feeling something burn inside of him at the way Sokka looks back into his eyes trustingly.

Sokka nods a little in agreement, gaze flitting to the door Jet just went through, and then he leans in to kiss Zuko on the cheek. Zuko narrowly stops himself from recoiling in surprise.

"Warn a guy," he grumbles with a little smile he can't quite hide. Sokka laughs in return.

\---

They stumble inside the dark hallway leading to Sokka’s apartment in a mess of drunken giggles and hushed conversation.

After what feels like an eternity of sneaking through the main hallway, they’re finally alone in Sokka’s room. Sokka goes to take off his shoes and is hit with the very pungent reminder of why they’re here in the first place.

“Shit, this is so gross,” he groans, pulling gingerly at the seam of his jeans. He had been unfortunate enough to stand in a girl’s path as she tried to find a toilet to vomit in. Instead, she had spewed all over his clothes and what promised to be one of the best parties of the month had abruptly come to an end.

Now that the door is closed and that they don’t care about making noise nearly as much, Zuko can freely indulge in the laughter he's been holding back; the amount of alcohol still running through his system definitely doesn’t help.

Sokka is trying to look indignant but Zuko catches the corner of his mouth twitch and it just makes him laugh harder. It’s only when Sokka threatens to throw his soiled clothes at his face that he calms down somewhat, because Sokka is drunk and pissed and Zuko knows better than to aggravate him when he’s in this state.

Sometime while Zuko was busy busting a rib laughing, Sokka has miraculously managed to take his pants off without smearing cold vomit all over himself. The sight sobers Zuko up faster than Sokka’s previous threats ever could. All of a sudden he’s very aware that they’re both standing in the dim light of Sokka’s night lamp, lending a strange sense of excitement to the entire scene.

“I can’t sleep like this, I gotta take a shower,” Sokka says, still holding his jeans by one of the belt hoop. Zuko throws a glance at his half-naked form and just as quickly looks away, simply nodding. He’s too busy trying to calm himself down; it’s probably why he’s completely blindsided by Sokka’s decision.

When Zuko lets himself look over at Sokka again, he finds Sokka already staring back. There’s a contemplative look on his face as he gives Zuko a long once-over, casually, like it’s not making Zuko’s entire body burn.

“Come with me,” Sokka finally says, his voice barely above a murmur, and then turns to walk to the bathroom next door.

Zuko on the other hand is rooted to the spot. There’s a buzzing in his ears, fairly reminiscent of those few times he passed out from hypoglycemia (and please, fucking please, don’t faint dontfaintdontfaint). He can’t form a single coherent thought, can’t think beyond the enormity of what Sokka just said and what it means.

For some reason, it’s a little easier to follow once Sokka is out of the room. Zuko pads softly out of the room and into the bathroom, and stops at the door. From where he’s standing, hands gripping the wood of the door frame tightly, he watches Sokka shuck his dirty jeans into a corner using just his toes. Zuko wants to laugh at the disgusted face he makes but he can barely breathe as it is.

Next, Sokka’s shirt comes off and then his— fuck, fuck, there’s no way this is happening, Sokka taking his boxers off and carelessly dropping them over the toilet lid.

And yet.

Zuko stares at his naked back then lets his gaze trail down to take in the curve of Sokka’s ass, fighting a blush. He doesn’t know the rules in this specific situation. What he’s allowed to do, or what Sokka expects of him.

Sokka doesn’t turn and he doesn’t speak. He just climbs into the shower like he forgot about Zuko, fully dressed and shaking, a few feet behind him.

Maybe that’s his cue to leave, Zuko thinks.

Like he sensed his hesitation, Sokka turns his face to look at him. They don’t say anything but they don’t need to. It’s all there, in the quirk of Sokka’s eyebrows and the glint in his eyes.

When Sokka turns back around to face the wall, Zuko takes a deep breath and begins taking his own clothes off. Meanwhile Sokka just turns the water on and pumps some shower gel onto the palm of his hand, still not looking back, not even when Zuko opens the door to the cabin and steps inside.

For a moment they’re just two guys inside a shower cubicle, with water raining down on them.

Save water, shower together, Sokka used to tell Suki in front of Zuko, and Zuko clings to the memory, even though he knows what Sokka meant then. This doesn’t have to mean anything; they're not even looking at each other, after all.

The water jet is directly above his head and Zuko tilts his face into it, giving himself a few seconds to recover. He can't concentrate like this, can't think beyond the magnetic pull of Sokka carefully cleaning his skin right next to him.

Just to stop standing there like an idiot he goes to gather some soap as well, and Sokka chooses this moment to reach out and curl his hand around Zuko’s.

Dumbfounded, Zuko watches as Sokka pulls their joined hands toward his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. Zuko couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

Sokka gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it, bringing both his hands up to cup Zuko’s face instead. Their eyes lock, hesitant and careful. The water is still beating down Zuko’s back harshly.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, whispered and reverent, and Zuko closes his eyes.

Sokka’s hands linger on his face, before he drops them down to the side of Zuko’s neck in a light grip, Zuko's own hands hanging limply by his side. He's itching to raise them and just touch but he's afraid.

By some unfathomable miracle, he’s still breathing. Not even the rapidly cooling water can shake him out of his trance.

After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes again and lets himself stare into Sokka’s own, lets himself be trapped again.

Softly, tentatively, Sokka curls a hand around the nape of his neck and Zuko relaxes into the touch, tipping his head forward until his cheek is resting on the edge of Sokka’s shoulder. He can feel warm skin just under his lips, covered in water droplets he could lick off. Maybe it's what Sokka wants. Maybe it's what they both want.

He can't find it in him to move, however, not after Sokka cuts the water off and winds both his arms around Zuko's chest, hands resting against the middle of his back.

The touch unlocks something inside of Zuko, makes him move, finally, and circle Sokka’s torso with his arms so they are embracing in a loose hug. Their bodies are barely touching and there’s a draft of air chilling his skin, but somehow Zuko feels so warm.

Sokka soon moves again. Zuko feels his neck shift and he knows exactly what Sokka is about to before he does it.

When Sokka pecks his wet cheek gently, Zuko almost sighs from the sheer familiarity of it. He leans further against Sokka’s shoulder until his nose is rubbing at Sokka’s neck softly.

Sokka kisses his cheek again, his arms tightening against him, both of them standing like this until Zuko feels Sokka pull at him to steer the two of them out of the shower cabin. He takes a fluffy towel to Zuko’s wet hair and cold limbs, rubbing the fabric against his skin delicately.

They exit the bathroom and pad softly to Sokka’s room to crawl under the covers, lying on their sides to face each other.

Zuko scoots forward until their foreheads are touching, and then he closes his eyes.

Paradoxically, sleep comes easy. Still, Zuko wishes they had kissed.

—-

Somehow the world is still turning when Zuko wakes up.

Reality has gone on. There was no shift in the space-time continuum, as if yesterday didn’t upend Zuko's entire life.

The sheer normality of them waking up together and getting downstairs to grab a coffee in sleepy silence makes it seem like nothing out of the ordinary happened, and Zuko doesn't know where they stand anymore.

Sokka is quieter than usual, replying with one-word answers to the weak attempt at conversation Zuko makes. He’s trying his best to pick up the slack, just so he doesn't have to think about anything else. Especially not about the fact that they might have a crossed a line yesterday it is impossible to go back to. It's terrifying, in all the ways Zuko didn't want it to be.

\---

The week that follows feels all wrong, like Zuko has somehow been thrown into an alternative dimension. It seems like Sokka is holding back in everything he does, like he breached something he didn't mean to, and is frantically trying to pull back.

He hesitates now, before offering Sokka to join him to whatever house party he has been invited to. He can see the way Sokka looks down and away, before agreeing stiffly.

Maybe it'll go away soon, Zuko fervently hopes every time he spots the uneasiness in Sokka's smiles. But it doesn't, not really.

They don't touch easily now. Sokka no longer kisses his cheek, or hugs him, and Zuko's fingers itch from all the times he went to put an arm around his shoulders but ultimately decided against it.

Even the time they spend together feels strained, unnatural; weighted down by this thing that took place and that neither of them knows how to acknowledge. The more time passes, the more regret grows inside him. If these are the consequences, it wasn’t worth it, Zuko thinks bitterly.

\---

A whole month goes by, full of awkward silences, before what happened is brought up again.

They’re smoking on Sokka’s bed, something they’ve been doing more often than not lately because Zuko doesn’t know how to tell Sokka he hasn’t been sleeping for a few weeks.

The truth is that ever since what happened last month, he doesn’t know how to talk to him. The memory of it is always on the back of his mind, makes him doubt and second-guess everything. Sometimes, Zuko wonders if it really happened or if he just had a really vivid dream.

“I wanted to kiss you, that time,” Sokka says into the silence, throwing him for a loop.

Zuko goes from really fucking high to really fucking sober so fast he almost falls off the bed when his head whips toward Sokka.

Everything in his head has gone blank, all thoughts wiped out by those few words from Sokka. It’s so silent he thinks he can hear himself breathe.

“But then… I don’t know. It didn’t feel right,” Sokka continues, fingers still working at the joint he’s rolling.

Sokka’s voice is sure and strong, but he’s not looking directly at Zuko, which is a little reassuring. Zuko is probably not the only person freaking out here.

He closes his eyes and reopens them almost immediately, still in disbelief. This is real. How can Sokka be so chill when he’s talking about this is beyond him.

His entire brain feels out of sync; Sokka’s words are there, echoing in his head but he can’t make sense of them. What the fuck is he even supposed to say to that?

Sokka chooses this moment to turn at him and it’s all really overwhelming and not exactly helping his case right now.

“Or did it?” he asks, as if Zuko was any state to provide an articulate answer.

It didn’t feel right. Why did it not feel right? Why wouldn’t it feel right?

Disbelief is giving way to cold, implacable fear.

“Why?” is the only word he manages to choke out, gaze lost into space. He can’t both talk and look at Sokka. It’s a little too much to ask for when half his synapses are temporarily out of order.

Sokka doesn’t answer immediately and it makes Zuko feel faint with panic.

“I didn’t-” Sokka says, finally, then stops to close his eyes, draw a breath. “I wasn’t sure I wanted it,” he admits.

At that, Zuko’s eyes fly to Sokka’s all on their own. His ears are ringing with the echo of what Sokka just said.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Sokka seems calm; grounded. Zuko on the other can feel something hot like anger make its way through his veins.

“Then why the fuck- Why the fuck did you do-”

“Like I said-” Sokka starts, interrupting him with a weird sort of wince, twisting his lips as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t care, Sokka!” Zuko all but shouts, pushing himself up on his hands to turn toward him.

Sokka looks surprised; Zuko doesn’t give a damn. It fucking hurts, everywhere.

“I don’t fucking care,” he says again, and his voice is a little less loud but a lot more deadly. “Was it fun, to mess around with me? Did you enjoy it?”

He drags in a ragged breath, before exploding.

“You knew!”

The words ring in the room, bouncing against the walls like all the ugly truths Zuko never wanted to face up to.

“You knew, but you still went and—”

Fuck. He’s about to cry now; there are tears welling up in his eyes and he doesn’t think he can stop them.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The first tear breaches the edge of his eyelid, and then it all comes out in a salty flood. Zuko is sitting up now, hands holding him upright and head tilted down. His own sobs sound loud in the silence. It’s so fucking humiliating.

“Zuko,” Sokka says hesitantly from somewhere close to him. Zuko can see him scoot closer despite his blurry vision.

“Zuko,” he says again, two hands coming up in front of Zuko’s face to cup his cheeks. Zuko can feel him pull at him, trying to raise his head, but he resists.

“Zuko, please. You’ve got to look at me. Please.”

It’s unfair how weak Zuko is against that kind of pleading.

He lets Sokka raise his face toward his.

Sokka looks sad when Zuko’s vision finally sharpens, but he doesn’t understand why. There’s no reason for Sokka to feel sad right now.

Sokka’s thumbs are rubbing softly at the wetness under his eyes, calming Zuko down somewhat. He takes a deep breath that makes him shudder, and Sokka’s hands tighten the slightest bit around his face. He still has that look in his eyes Zuko can’t comprehend.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko,” he starts, and Zuko closes his eyes. It sounds too ominous; Zuko can’t look at him while he says it.

“I was scared. I didn’t want to screw it up."

He takes a deep breath. "I… I was scared of losing you.”

Zuko’s eyes fly open. Losing him? 

But Sokka isn’t done. “It’s true. That I knew.”

Well, fuck.

“But it didn’t mean anything,” Sokka says gently. Zuko stares at his face, the sober part of his brain struggling to keep pace.

“It didn’t?” he asks, hating the way his voice wobbles a little.

Sokka looks at him fondly. “No, of course not. I didn’t know what you wanted, deep down.”

Okay, Zuko thinks. So maybe Sokka didn’t want to assume anything. It still doesn’t make total sense.

Clearing his throat, he looks down before his eyes dart back to Sokka’s face automatically.

“But why?” and his voice sounds weak. “Why did you not want it then?”

If Sokka looks away now, Zuko will know he’s lying.

“I was still figuring it out,” Sokka replies simply, eyes boring into his own. Zuko can feel his spine sag a little with relief.

The anger, the fear; it all ebbs away, leaving him with the hardest part.

“And now?” His voice is barely above a murmur.

Sokka doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze travels over Zuko’s face, tracing the angles of it like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“I love you,” he says instead, skipping all the steps in between. And then he leans in, slowly.

Zuko closes his eyes and the distance between them both, feeling like he’s flying.

The kiss is slow, and comforting. He marvels at the overload of sensations, the intimate knowledge of the way Sokka’s mouth curves delicately under his and the smell of his cologne on his skin.

Zuko opens his mouth and tangles his fingers in Sokka’s hair, fingers splayed against his scalp to pull him closer. Just a touch and he’s addicted, can’t believe he went so long without knowing what Sokka tasted like or how soft his lips could feel against his.

Eventually, Sokka leans back down on the bed and pulls him down with him, his arms encircling his waist like he doesn’t want to let him go.

They kiss again, and again and again, and Zuko revels in the feeling of Sokka’s warm hands caressing his back, all along his shoulders and the curve of his ribs. They kiss until it’s dark and quiet outside, Sokka on his back and Zuko curled up against his side, an arm thrown over his midsection.

They’ll talk in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I adore Suki and I think she and Sokka would still be friends after they give each other a little space. I also actually really like Jet too. He's kinda the asshole in this story, but he's a complex character who makes mistakes just like Sokka and Zuko.
> 
> Edit: JET HAS GROWN ON ME LMAO I FEEL BAD FOR WRITING HIM AS A DICK 
> 
> Thanks for reading, i live for comments and any are much appreciated:)


End file.
